


Intimacy

by heliodor



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Flowers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliodor/pseuds/heliodor
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale enjoy each other's company even though they also annoy each other a great deal.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> An untitled Wordsworth poem usually called "I wandered lonely as a cloud" or just Daffodils is quoted in this fic.
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm trying to get back in the swing of writing now that it's November. It'll be getting cold and I'll be spending far faaaaaar less time outside.
> 
> Might add some more standalone chapters to this exploring different types of intimacy. Might not. It all depends on how the mood strikes.

After Crowley and Aziraphale assisted in ending the Apocalypse and were effectively cast out for being too weird to deal with, they did what any pair of retirees with limitless time and resources might do: they went on holiday. 

Now Crowley had wanted to go somewhere tropical, maybe a private island or a resort so expensive he wouldn’t have to see another living soul. It didn’t matter much as long as it was the kind of place where he could sunbathe, make fun of whatever bathing costume Aziraphale put together from his wardrobe of antiquities, and drink fruity little cocktails with enough alcohol content to put him under the table. In his opinion, the whole point of going on holiday was to go relax somewhere very far away from home, but of course he should have known that Aziraphale wouldn’t be of a like mind.

“Not far now, my dear,” Aziraphale said cheerfully as he led the way through a field full of gently swaying daffodils. 

It was chilly out bordering on downright cold, and it looked like it might rain too. If there had been a mist clinging about the whole scene would have looked like days before everything fun was invented when Crowley had to creep around damp spaces whispering in people’s ears to get anything done and horses desired nothing more than to stomp him under their hooves on sight. Would a world without cars and wifi in it have even been worth saving? Well, yes but Crowley was in enough of a sulk to pretend it wouldn’t have.

“‘Let’s visit all of England,’ he says,” Crowley grumbled to himself as he followed along, glowering at the cheery flowers surrounding them. “‘Start in the north and work our way back down,’ he says. I could be doing shots in Fiji right now.”

Aziraphale tutted and shifted his wicker hamper so he could reach out for Crowley’s hand. “Do try to get into the spirit of it! We’re on an adventure! And isn’t this lovely? Like something out of a poem.”

“No. Aziraphale, no. Don’t. I’m begging you.” Crowley desperately tugged his hand out of Aziraphale’s grasp, but it was too late. The angel was already clearing his throat and ignoring all signs of Crowley’s discomfort.

“‘I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils; beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze,’” Aziraphale recited. He came to a stop beneath an old oak with a nice thick trunk perfect for leaning against and put down his basket. “Crowley? Where are you going? This is the spot.”

“I’m leaving! If you’re going to quote bloody Wordsworth at me I’m going home,” Crowley called back over his shoulder.

“Come now, Crowley. It’s a nice piece and hardly didactic at all. Don’t be so fussy.” Aziraphale took out a tartan blanket to spread over the ground in the shade. Such confidence that he didn’t have to chase after Crowley and bring him back!

Well, Crowley would show him. He’d walk back to the Bentley and drive home to get first class tickets somewhere more fun. Crowley was his own demon after all. He didn’t need Aziraphale to have a good time. He’d be the one having the last laugh when… When…

Crowley stopped dead in his tracks.

Ah fuck, he did still want to be around Aziraphale despite how annoying he was currently finding it that Aziraphale could convince him to do absolutely anything just by widening his eyes beseechingly. He knew that Aziraphale had worse traits than a fondness for Romantic poets that weren’t even the fun, scandalous ones, and Crowley hadn’t left him over any of those. He could endure a little sodding boring old Wordsworth.

Ugh. Aziraphale was lucky he was cute.

“I have champagne,” Aziriphale said invitingly when Crowley turned towards him again, gesturing to his basket for emphasis like a model on a game show.

“For the record,” Crowley drawled as he sauntered back to sprawl across one end of the blanket. “I’m not fussy. _You’re_ fussy. I’m cool. I go with the flow. I’m highly adaptable I am.”

“Sure you are, dear,” Aziraphale agreed with a highly suspect mildness Crowley wasn’t sure if he wanted to take offense to or not.

And so they sat. An angel and a demon on a blanket taking in what was admittedly a beautiful view of springtime Lent lilies. Crowley lounged back propped up on his elbows, and Aziraphale sat perfectly erect with this hands folded into his lap primly and a self-satisfied little smile on his face.

All grumbling and complaining aside, it was a perfect afternoon.

After a few serene moments enjoying each other’s company Aziraphale started to fidget in the way that only he could by smoothing down his trousers and straightening his bow-tie and making sure all the items in his basket were in order.

“What’s on your mind, angel?” Crowley asked.

“Nothing. Are you ready for the champagne? Are you hungry? I have pears and camembert, or—” Aziraphale cut himself off with a sigh when Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Fine, yes, I have something on my mind. Do you think it would be nice if you… Came over here? To my side of the blanket.”

“Why? Do you think I’m too far away? I didn’t think your blanket was that big.” Crowley looked down at the gap of space between them that was not even double the length of the basket Aziraphale carried his picnic things in. There probably wouldn’t be much extra space once the full spread of food that was no doubt inside the basket was laid out between them. 

“It’s not about the size of my blanket, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, pausing for a moment to close his eyes and regain his patience. “I was thinking on the walk up that it would be nice to hold you here. Just us and the beauty of creation. It would be intimate.”

“Intimate?” Crowley jerked upright. “Here? Outside?” 

Suddenly memories of loosening Aziraphale’s dumb bow-tie floated to the top of Crowley’s mind, of pressing Aziraphale down against the sheets in his own apartment and pressing inside of him. Crowley thought getting horny was something Aziraphale only did after going to see an opera, but what did he know? They’d never gone to see flowers like this together before. Maybe daffodils really did it for angels. Maybe pollen was an aphrodisiac.

“No, not like that,” Aziraphale shattered all of Crowley’s daydreams with a flustered wave of his hand. “I meant intimacy in the general sense. I thought I would ask because I’ve come to feel, well, I mean to say I’m trying to be respectful of your occult nature and I understand if cuddling is too much for you. Just being here with you is enough for me. I couldn’t imagine being here on Earth without you, you know. If I had a chance to do things differently, better, and I had to be alone. Well, I don’t think I would do it. We are —not perfect, I suppose, only God is perfect of course— but what we have is near enough for me if you understand what I mean.” 

Crowley stared at him in disbelief.

Aziraphale stared back. “Oh! You’re turning a bit red. I didn’t know you could blush like that.”

“I’m not blushing,” Crowley snapped, slithering to the other side of the blanket to lay back down with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. “Cold out is all.”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hand, slowly brushing a thumb across his cheek. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
